


In Our Bedroom After The War

by Punkpoemprose



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, First Stucky fic, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, Post-Civil War (Marvel), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-15
Updated: 2017-06-15
Packaged: 2018-11-14 15:43:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11211150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Punkpoemprose/pseuds/Punkpoemprose
Summary: Every night is a battle for Bucky and Steve.Based on the prompt: "They can't hurt you."





	In Our Bedroom After The War

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Stucky fic, because I'm a disaster and I finally gave into writing outside of my primary fandom. (Say no to peer pressure... unless it's more fun to say yes... then definitely give in.)  
> Canonverse (with some slight ret-con/ twisting to make myself happy)  
> Note there is some references to violence and PTSD

           Steve was used to Bucky being restless in his sleep. They both still had nightmares. They were finally able to curl together each night like they had before the war, but it often wasn't enough to keep their night terrors away. The contact of skin on skin, the familiar smell of cigarettes and soap, and making their apartment in the Avengers compound look as close as possible to the one they had shared in Brooklyn had brought Steve some peace at night. It wasn’t always enough for Bucky though.

           No amount of vintage wallpaper and décor was enough to stave off his nightmares. Sometimes Steve wondered if he would have been more comfortable sleeping alone. After all, whenever Bucky had one of his episodes he would spend the rest of the night on the couch, afraid of hurting Steve in his panic despite the fact that there was next to nothing he could do in the controlled environment of their home to hurt him, or at least there was very little he could do that would cause irreparable physical damage.

           “Shhhhh Buck,” Steve hushed, knowing that he was doing little good. When Bucky got like this it was just something he had to work through.

           He brushed back his friend’s hair from his sweat covered forehead. It felt odd to be on the giving rather than receiving end, remembering all the times Buck had done the same when he was small and sick.

           Bucky’s eyes opened, but he wasn’t awake, not yet. Steve knew that the wild look in his eyes meant that he wasn’t seeing him, but instead whatever horror his mind was forcing him to replay. Lately it had been the murder of Howard and Maria Stark, no amount of reminders that it was The Winter Soldier that had killed them, not James Buchanan Barnes, was enough to keep Bucky from screaming out in terror each night at what his hands had done.

           Steve didn’t think that this particular nightmare was associated with that particular event though. Normally Bucky reacted differently to that one, whispering “no” repeatedly and tossing. Now he was staring in horror at the ceiling, mouth moving like he was screaming in pain, but no sound coming out. Steve didn’t interfere when Bucky had nightmares, trying to wake him usually only made things worse. When Bucky’s flesh hand went to his other arm, however, Steve was forced to intervene.

           Bucky had moved so quickly and with such force that Steve, despite his own enhanced reflexes, had been nearly unable to catch him. He knew what he was doing. This wasn’t the first or last time he had seen his best friend try to tear his own arm off in a nightmare.

           Since he had come up from the ice, things finally being smoothed over with Tony, politics, and the rest of their team, Bucky had had his arm replaced with a prosthesis of Banner’s invention. It was perfect when Bucky was awake, wired into him like the other had been, but this one far more painless, where technology gave him the sensation of touch and the appearance of actual flesh. The only unfortunate issue with it being that when Bucky attacked himself in the night, he ran the risk of actually bleeding out from its forceful removal.

           He pulled his partner’s hand away, protecting him from himself, which only caused him to struggle more. Steve threw himself atop Bucky’s body, pressing him into the mattress to keep him from hurting them both.

           “Hey, hey, calm down. They can’t hurt you anymore,” he said as Bucky struggled under his weight, “I’ve got you.”

           The fog started to lift slightly from his eyes and Steve could see recognition come in and out. It was always like that at first. When Bucky heard his voice in a nightmare, he heard Stevie the asthmatic who he had to touch gently and protect. It took him a while to reconcile those memories with the man above him who was larger than him and had the raw strength to lift a car by himself.

           “Stevie?” he asked, but before Steve could answer, he struggled against his touch, “Stevie they’re cutting me up. Run!”

           “Buck, no one is hurting you now. Breathe, okay. Shhhhhh, it’s me.”

           His struggling lessened and Steve was able to release his arms, moving off him enough to be able to sit atop him rather than weigh him down completely. He pushed his hair back again cautiously, then let his hand lower to the other man’s chest.

           “See, just me,” he said, brushing his fingers across his skin gingerly, lovingly as Bucky’s focus came back to his face instead of some far-off place.

           “The war is over Buck. We’re in our room. In our bed. No one’s gonna hurt you here.”

           Bucky’s eyes closed for a moment, his hands reaching out for Steve, pulling him back onto his heaving chest. Steve didn’t fight it. He knew that his Bucky was coming back and that was all he needed.

           “Sorry, nightmare,” he said after a few minutes.

           “It’s okay Buck," he tried not to focus on the rapid rise and fall of Bucky's chest, the signs that panic hadn't left him yet, "You alright? You went for your arm again.”

           The other man sighed but tightened his hold on him, “Yeah, thanks for stopping me. Probably shouldn’t take the couch huh?”

           “Nah, stay here, okay?” Steve said, snuggling back at Bucky’s side when his grip finally loosened. He pressed a kiss to his forehead before continuing, “Don’t want you alone, just so you know you’re safe.”

           Bucky frowned slightly, his eyes still closed, “A little Punk like you is gonna keep a big guy like me safe, huh?”

           “You need it Jerk.”

           They both smiled at that, ready to put the nightmares and fear behind them and get back to sleeping in each other’s arms.


End file.
